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... art, sitting bolt upright with the first faint grey of the dawn. He forced away the cobwebs of his sleep-addled awareness, driven by the shadows of a paranoid fear. Ignoring the cramps and bruises from sleeping on the small and hard floor of his cage, he forced his mind to work. How much time had passed? Days? Weeks? No – months. He remembered…or at least he thought he remembered.

Though the dreary days trapped behind bars blurred into one another, events and scenes could be clearly reca ...

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